My ex-husband has a little problem. He won’t let his girlfriend’s 7-year-old son call him Dad. As a result, our son, who he has for just 36 hours a week is now calling him by his first name too. He’s mimicking his psuedo step-brother. So what’s a jerky ex-husband to do?
“Why don’t you just let him call you Daddy?” I press, “He’s just a kid and you’re living with him.”
“He can call me Daddy if I’ve been there for five years, but not yet. I am not his father. He knows that.”
He’s walking around my kitchen - making coffee, grabbing snacks - pretending like its all his. The rant continues. His indifference to the children’s feelings is disgusting me. I escape to head upstairs where his girlfriend and her son are playing with Benjamin. We’d just met for the first time a few minutes ago.
She is standing over the boys who are completely immersed in the Thomas the Train set. She looks tired and run down, her wrinkles too deep for her age, her spirit vanquished and broken. After she became a single mom she started stripping and now, three years later she works at a Taco Bell. But despite our socioeconomic differences she and I are one in the same. We’ve both fallen in love with the man in the kitchen, a French-Canadian with a scarred past that’s left him unable to really love anyone, child or adult.
I can tell immediately that she doesn’t have my strength. He’s probably walking all over her - treating her like he wanted to treat me. But she has a son. I left our marriage just to avoid what she’s going through now.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” I say softly. I can tell she’s nervous. Who knows what he’s told her about me. ”So is he treating you well?” I ask. I don’t wait or beat around the bush. I know we don’t have much time and I’m concerned.
“He’s an asshole sometimes but for the most part he’s okay…I guess.”
“Well, I really hope you two are a better match than we were. But if he ever treats you badly don’t let him get away with it, okay?” And then I add, “Us single moms have to stick together, that’s all.”
For the first time she looks me in the eye and then she smiles. “Yeah - we do, don’t we?” The single motherhood code, an unspoken bond. We start sharing single mom war stories and then my ex breaks it up.
“We’ve got to go!”
They climb into his beat up Chevy cavalier. She sinks into the front seat. Then he stops and jumps out. “Do you have any Tylenol?”
“Yeah sure,” I hand him the pills.
He’s shaking his head, “That’s the thing with her, she pops 10 of these a day.”
What a jerk.
What if Benjamin turns out anything like his father? And why do I feel like I want to save her and her son? I know I can’t … can I? But moreover, after this experience and some other things too personal to write I’m wondering lately if Benjamin would be better off without his father in the picture at all.
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